


Prayer of the Refugee

by Cassy27



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Eggsy thinks Harry is a posh twat, Hartwin, M/M, Rentboy history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-04 21:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13373112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassy27/pseuds/Cassy27
Summary: “I called Harry Hart,” Michelle said, confirming Eggsy’s worst known nightmare. “I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know how to get you out of this mess, Eggsy, so I called him.” He’d be so fucking pissed at her if she wasn’t crying so hard, but she couldn’t actually be blamed, could she? Because why did she call him? Right, because he’d fucked up. Monumentally.After stealing and wrecking Rottweiler's car, Eggsy is forced to stay with Harry Hart for a while. It sucks, promising to be one hell of a boring time, until Harry Hart proves to be more than a mundane English nuisance.





	1. Don't Hold Me Up Now

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks, Shells19, for being one awesome beta! 
> 
> I fell into the Kingsman-fandom not too long ago. After reading so many great stories on here, I thought it was time to write one of my own ideas. So here it goes...
> 
> The title 'Prayer of the Refugee' is a song by Rise Against. I listened to it a lot while writing this.

“You’re free to go.”

 _What?_ Eggsy blinked, unsure if he’d heard right, blinked again, waited, but the police officer staring at him with a pinched look on his face didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t joking either, no, he looked far too pissed off for that, so Eggsy could only assume that he did, in fact, hear him correctly. He was free to go. And he wouldn’t wait to hear those words twice.

Standing, determined to get out of there while he still could, but confused as fuck, Eggsy darted around the table and headed straight for the opened door. For a brief moment, he expected the officer to stop him, to grab him by the arm and drag him back to the metal chair, handcuffing him to the table, laughing his ass off, but the guy didn’t even look at him as he passed. He only muttered “ _fuckin’ rich kids”’_ under his breath – Eggsy was sure he misheard that – and slammed the door shut behind him.

The other officers barely granted him a look as he made his way out of the police station, and Eggsy was beginning to feel paranoid. There was no way the charges could be dropped just like that. He stole a car and crashed it. Hell, he’d been looking at eighteen months of jail-time, the officer had made that clear enough, and now he was just walking out of there? What the fuck? It only made him quicken his step, wanting to get away as soon as possible, put as much distance between himself and the police station, and before he realized, Eggsy found himself running down the streets, bumping into people without bothering to apologize. They wouldn’t apologize to him either anyway.

This was Dean’s doing. How, Eggsy didn’t know, didn’t care about figuring out either, but it was the only logical explanation. He and Dean had never seen eye to eye, never would, but he’d never crossed a line like this before. Stealing that car, pissing off Rottweiler like that – he fucking hated Rottweiler – and then crashing it … Those men had to be out for blood, his blood, and they couldn’t spill it if he were locked up in jail. So they somehow got him released.

He needed to get home, lock himself in his room, and figure out a way to deal with this mess. Honestly, sometimes he should use his head more. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, a fun way to mess with Rottweiler and, by extension, Dean, but while he’d never intended to crash the fucking thing, he should have known nothing good could have come from it.

He didn’t expect his mother to be home.

All but crashing through the front door, Eggsy screeched to a sudden halt, his mother twisting around to meet his gaze. She looked terrified, with red-shot eyes and a tremble to her limbs she didn’t usually have. Which could only mean one thing; she knew.

“Mum?”

“Oh, Eggsy.” Without hesitation, Michelle flung her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. Like she knew her son was doomed. And he fucking was. He so fucking was. Fuck, fuck, fuck! With his eyes squeezed shut, Eggsy returned the hug, his arms around his mother’s waist in an instant, and inhaled the scent of her hair. This might be the last time he could hug his mother like this – well, okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit, knowing that Dean would never actually kill him, but still, there was no telling what was in store for him.

“Shit, mum, I’m sorry,” he muttered against her hair.

“You gotta go, Eggsy.” Michelle pushed her son away, at arm’s length, and dug her fingers deep into his shoulders, squeezing. “If Dean finds you here–”

“I know, I know.” The sad part of this whole mess was that this wasn’t the first time he found himself in this sort of situation. He couldn’t count on both hands the number of times Dean had been out for him, but this time felt different. This time felt dangerous. Life-threatening. Which was why Eggsy kept telling himself again and again that Dean wasn’t actually a murderer. A thief, yes. A crook and a burglar. A wanker, that too, and on a rare occasion an arsonist, but not a murderer. “I’ll go lay low with Jamal and Brandon for a while, Dean won’t–”

“Not this time.” Michelle sighed, head shaking. More tears streamed down her face, her make-up a mess, but the worst part was that _he_ made this mess. He couldn’t blame Dean for this one. “Things need to settle down, Eggsy, and it’ll take a bit longer than a day or two.”

“What’re you saying, mum?” Eggsy felt the unnatural desire to pull away, to retreat, to lock himself in his room like he originally intended to, because he knew what would follow. He could tell by the look in his mother’s eyes. He could tell by her desperation. Because she had to be really fucking desperate to call in _his_ help.

“I called Harry Hart,” Michelle said, confirming Eggsy’s worst known nightmare. “I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know how to get you out of this mess, Eggsy, so I called him.”

He’d be so fucking pissed at her if she wasn’t crying so hard. But she couldn’t actually be blamed, could she? Because why did she call him? Right, because he’d fucked up. Monumentally. Still, she shouldn’t have called him.

“Fuck, mum, why?” He shouldn’t curse in her face, but both he and Michelle were too upset to care. “You know how I feel about that guy.” Michelle straightened her back and wiped away her tears using the back of her hands. “He’s a pain in our asses, you say so yourself every year you invite him over for tea, after he leaves.”

Eggsy never could wrap his head around the arrangement, but every year, during the summer, Michelle invited Harry Fucking I-Got-A-Silver-Spoon-Up-My-Ass Hart over for tea. Tradition, she’d once called it. To remember his father. Eggsy didn’t care for it, because he knew that behind Harry Hart’s polite smile, his true thoughts lay, and it was all too clear that the man felt better than them, looked down on them. Eggsy never did understand how his father had once worked with a guy like that, all posh and condescending.

“You don’t get a say in this,” Michelle snapped suddenly, pulling Eggsy from his thoughts. “We should be grateful that he’s agreed to let you stay with him for a few weeks.”

Shock made his eyes nearly pop from their sockets. “Weeks?”

“Yes, weeks.” Michelle turned, picked up a stuffed bag from the couch, and shoved it into Eggsy’s hands. “He’s waiting for you, so hurry up, before Dean gets home, because I refuse to call an ambulance for you, Eggsy.” She was trying to sound strong, determined, but her voice cracked with each word she spoke. “I won’t lose you, too.”

It was low, Eggsy couldn’t help but think. Each time she tried to get something done of him, each time she was desperate enough, she used his father. It was how she made him quit the marines, too. And he hadn’t even known the guy.

“Mum …” He didn’t really know what to say.

Michelle stepped up to him and placed a warm hand against the side of his face. “Please go,” she said softly, and fuck, there were those tears again. “Just for a while. You’ll be able to come home before you know it. I promise. I’ll get Dean to calm down.”

“If he lays one finger on you–”

“Don’t worry about me.” She offered him a watery smile. “Be good over there. Harry Hart isn’t as bad as you think he is.”

“But–”

“Promise me, Eggsy,” Michelle placed both hands against his face, forcing him to look at her, forcing him to look into her eyes. They were blue, like his. It was the only thing he’d inherited from her, Michelle always said. The rest was all his father. “Please, Eggsy,” she repeated.

“Fine,” Eggsy caved, grumbling. He considered himself a good son, considered himself an even better brother – if Dean ever were to lay a hand on Daisy, he’d fucking have his head – but he was no good to either of them dead. Or worse; breathing and eating through a tube. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I promise, mum.”

-/-

The taxi brought him to a fancy part of the city, to the kind of streets Eggsy and his mates came to if they were actively looking for trouble. In fact, he thought he recognized a house they’d once egged a few years ago, back when he’d still been in high school. Nowadays, they came here looking for money, using any kind of manner, ranging from legal to less than legal. And now he was here looking for a safe-haven. At least, that was what his mother believed. Eggsy wasn’t that naïve. He gave it forty-eight hours before he’d flee from this place, close to losing his mind because of the poshness of this neighborhood.

Harry Hart apparently lived in the last house of a dead-end street, with each house having pristine white brick walls and flowers hanging in front of the windows. It was some true _Keeping Up Appearance_ shit or something, and Eggsy couldn’t remember ever feeling this uncomfortable as the taxi halted, their destination having been reached. This wasn’t where he belonged, and the taxi-driver was clearly thinking the same, a frown creasing his brow as he looked over his shoulder at him.

“Are you sure this is the right address?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, you wanker,” Eggsy growled, offended. He all but tossed twenty bucks into the guy’s face and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. He ignored the driver’s curses and ignored the way he sped off, with screeching tires, but it had sure alerted a few neighbors. Curtains behind windows moved and an old lady actually opened up her front door, curious about the noise outside.

Eggsy inclined his head, a smile on his face, one which only grew when the old lady turned a light shade of pink, both annoyed and intrigued by the stranger in her street.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Johnson,” a voice said.

Spinning around on his heels, Eggsy found a tall, broad shouldered man with dark brown eyes standing outside. He had immaculately cut hair and was dressed in casual pants and a white buttoned-up shirt. Harry Hart looked exactly how Eggsy remembered him, with a disappointed look on his face and a taut line around his lips. What an asshole.

“Is he family of yours, Mr. Hart?” The old lady’s eyebrows had quirked up in interest.

“Not quite,” Harry smiled politely. “But he’ll be staying with me for some time.”

 _Some time_. Eggsy grumbled underneath his breath – blaming his mother for putting him through the seventh ring of hell – and made his way towards the front door, towards Harry Hart. He couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t known the guy to come over for tea, but come to think of it, he knew ridiculously little about him. He knew his name and he knew his address, but that was it. His mum mostly did the talking when he visited them.

“Hello, Eggsy,” Harry said once the front door had closed behind them.

Eggsy took in his surroundings, finding himself standing in a fancy hallway which gave entry to a living room to the left and a dining room to the right. Beyond the dining room was a pristine kitchen where hardly any cooking took place – at least, that was what Eggsy assumed. Somehow it was difficult to imagine Harry Hart cooking complete meals just for himself.

“Listen,” Eggsy started. He flung his bag across his shoulder. “I’m sorry about this. My mum panicked.”

“She was right to call me,” Harry said.

“Are you expecting thanks?”

The corners of Harry’s lips tugged upwards ever so slightly, his hands buried in the pockets of his trousers. “I don’t expect anything, Eggsy,” he said. “Except that you respect me and my house during your stay here. I don’t believe that’s too much to ask. In return, I shall respect you and your privacy.”

Eggsy would have huffed out an incredulous breath if he hadn’t remembered his mother’s tearful eyes in that moment. He couldn’t screw this up. He wouldn’t. He’d already disappointed his mum enough. The last thing she needed was to find her son back on her doorstep simply because he hadn’t been able to control himself. Respect the man who had kindly offered him a place to stay for a few days, that he could do.

Following Harry upstairs, Eggsy tried not to imagine what Dean would do to him if he were back home before the day had ended.

“This is your bedroom,” Harry said, opening the door to what had to be the guest bedroom. The bed had been freshly made, with fluffy pillows and a soft-looking quilt. Beside the bed stood a nightstand, a bottle of water and a clean glass on top. Two large windows gave view to the street. Eggsy couldn’t fucking believe it. He felt giddy like a little girl arriving in a castle. Ridiculous really, but the bed just looked so goddamn good.

“If you’re missing anything, just let me know,” Harry said.

“This is just for a few days.” Eggsy spun around, needing those words to be said. “Mum is afraid of what Dean might do, but I can handle him. I’m only doing this for her.”

“Doing what for her?” Harry asked.

“Dodging the fight,” Eggsy clarified. He dropped his bag on the foot of the bed. “I’m not afraid of Dean, I’ve never been.”

For one long moment, Harry looked at him, those dark brown eyes of him locking with Eggsy’s light blue ones. It was weird, like an entire thought-process occurred inside Harry’s head, but then all he said was, “I know.”

Once alone, given time to settle – not that he planned on unpacking his bag – Eggsy dropped down on the bed, eagle-style, arms and legs spread wide, and stared at the white ceiling above him. He should have known Harry Hart wasn’t the typical bachelor, with a messy house and booze all over the place. No, there probably wasn’t a spick of dust to be found in this place. Every mother’s wet dream of a son-in-law. Well-spoken, well-behaved, tidy. Boring.

That was exactly the sort of time Eggsy was looking at; a boring time. His friends were at the other side of the city and his mum would kill him herself if he were to show up there, no need for Dean’s help then. He was sure there was nothing to do around here, either. Hell, he couldn’t even remember if he’d spotted a TV in the living room. What did Harry Hart do to not be bored to death? It was a mystery.

With a heavy sigh, Eggsy pushed himself away from the bed and begrudgingly made his way downstairs, finding Harry seated at the table in the dining room, a newspaper spread out in front of him. Typical. And once again proving his theory right; boring.

Eggsy buried his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“I won’t be in the way,” he said, drawing Harry’s attention back to him. Harry looked up from his newspaper, and only now did Eggsy notice the black-rimmed pair of glasses on top of his nose. He hadn’t been wearing those when he’d arrived, and, honestly, he couldn’t believe his mum was forcing him to stay with such an old guy. “I’ll be in my room the whole time, you’ll not even know I was here,” he continued, which earned him a raised eyebrow.

“Nonsense,” Harry said, head shaking. “I’ve already got a trip planned for tomorrow.”

Unease trickled down Eggsy’s back. “A trip?” Like he was a little child who needed to be entertained.

“A surprise,” was all Harry said.

“Not the zoo or anything, right?” Eggsy had to ask, had to make sure he wouldn’t be pulled into some sort of ridiculous situation his mates might find out about and not stop bugging him about for years to come. Could you imagine? Going to the zoo and having ice-cream and cotton candy? Like he was five? Fuck no.

“Not the zoo,” Harry chuckled, and, for the first time, Eggsy couldn’t help but think the guy was loosening up a bit, letting go of his uptightness, forgetting about the fact that smiling was forbidden for posh British men who’d been raised with a golden spoon up their ass. “It’ll be fun,” he assured him.

Or tried to assure him, because there wasn’t an activity in the world Eggsy could link with Harry Hart that might even be the slightest bit of fun.


	2. I Can Stand My Own Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, who took the time to leave a review for the first chapter. Thank you, Shells19, for being my awesome friend and beta'ing this entire thing! On to chapter 2...

A taxi picked them up at ten in the morning the next day, a private one apparently, because Harry greeted the driver with a cheerful “Good morning, Marcus,” as he climbed onto the back-seat of the car, and got greeted back with a kind, “Good morning, Mr. Hart.”

Eggsy followed, still unsure about the whole trip, still wrecking his brain about what Harry could have possibly planned, but the guv was surprisingly tight-lipped about the whole thing. And excited. It was the only word Eggsy could use to describe Harry’s behavior; his giddiness this morning as he’d made tea for them, the lightness to his eyes, the hum he’d produced as he’d scanned the headlines of the newspaper, apparently aiming to reproduce the latest popular _Coldplay_ song. Coldplay and Harry Hart, not a combination Eggsy would ever have made.

“Will you tell me now where we’re headed?” Eggsy tried.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Harry smiled.

Sitting opposite the man, Eggsy seized the opportunity to study the lines of Harry’s face. He hadn’t sat this close to him ever before, and for the first time he noticed the small scar underneath Harry’s right eye. And a scar above his left eyebrow. He had a fading bruise behind his left ear, too, creeping into his immaculately trimmed hairline. There wasn’t a plausible scenario in Eggsy’s head, however, that could explain the healed and healing injuries. Harry Hart and martial arts? No, the guy was far too uptight for that. Harry Hart getting into a fight? As if. He was the sort of man to apologize before a fight could ever break free, the sort of guy to retreat, to run.

Although that wasn’t true, was it? Harry Hart had been in the army, same as his dad. The truth was that Eggsy didn’t know him, didn’t know even the smallest thing about him, didn’t know anything obvious about him either. He’d pegged him as a classical music kind of guy, but he’d been humming Coldplay only this morning. And he hadn’t missed the Christmas pajamas he wore this morning either, hidden underneath a black bathrobe despite it being only the beginning of December. And his kitchen _was_ used, because Eggsy had never eaten such an extensive breakfast before. Harry had made everything; from eggs to pancakes to freshly squeezed orange juice and toast. 

The ride only took ten minutes, bringing them to a quiet street not far from where Eggsy lived, to Savile Row, which was known for tailor shops. Eggsy must have walked down this street a thousand times already, but he’d never had any attention for the small shop with three custom-made suits in the shop’s window and _‘Kingsman’_ written on the glass in golden letters. For one brief moment, Eggsy was sure they were in the wrong place, but Harry stepped out of the car, holding open the car-door for Eggsy to follow – which he did, with a frown on his face.

At least it wasn’t the zoo.

“Harry?” He asked carefully. He shouldn’t have hoped. Shopping for a suit would be exactly the kind of activity Harry Hart would find enjoyable while, in fact, there was nothing Eggsy could imagine that would be more boring than this.

“Come on,” Harry said, excited.

The shop was larger than Eggsy would have thought, the walls inside lined with cabinets full of fabrics. He spotted dozens of different colors and patterns, some beautiful – not that he’d openly admit that – and some a sore to the eye – purple with green dots particularly hurt to see. He spotted ties and bowties, and one corner of the shop seemed to be dedicated to shoes. The kind of shoes Eggsy would never wear in his life. Not even to his wedding, if he ever were interested in getting married.

Turning, Eggsy locked eyes with Harry, and of course the guy was beaming, fitting right in in this place.

Only now did he notice that Harry wore a tailor-made suit, dark blue with grey lines, probably bought in this very store. True, it fitted him well, very well, _extremely_ _well_ , made to perfection to accentuate all the right lines and curves of his surprisingly fit body – Eggsy had noticed Harry’s muscled arms as he shrugged on his jacket this morning – but this wasn’t for him. No, Eggsy much preferred sticking to his jeans and T-shirts.

“Harry?” He asked again, less carefully now, more afraid.

“A young man such as yourself should own a proper suit,” Harry said.

“Quite right, Mr. Hart,” the man behind the counter agreed.

Eggsy would have glared at them if he hadn’t taken the intent earlier of behaving, for his mother’s sake. “I feel comfortable wearing this, guv,” he said, pointing at his current outfit. “Besides, I can’t afford a suit like that,” he added, and pointed at Harry’s current outfit.

“It’s a gift, Eggsy,” Harry said, small wrinkles forming around his dark eyes when he smiled. His hand smoothed across a silky-looking fabric, the color deeply red, and fuck, it was almost sensual, the way Harry handled it. “Now, let Mr. Hopper take you into dressing room number two for measurements. It’ll be quite the experience.” He turned, eyes scanning his surroundings. “In the meantime, I’ll pick out some fabrics I’m sure you’ll like.”

Gay, Eggsy decided in that moment. Harry Hart was definitely gay. Was that why he’d never brought anyone along every year when he came over for tea? His mum had asked plenty of times, always talking about how she’d like to meet his significant other, but Harry had always shown up alone on their doorstep, with a bouquet of flowers in hand which his mum had never been able to keep alive past two days. He’d never worn those dark-rimmed glasses he was wearing right now, either, which was such a shame, because Eggsy rather liked them on Harry’s nose.

“Fine, just know I’m putting my trust in you here,” he joked, already shrugging off his Adidas-jacket. Harry smiled radiantly at him, content. “This is a huge sacrifice on my end.”

“Yes, it’s an absolutely horrendous experience I’m putting you through,” Harry grinned.

Eggsy laughed. “I’m glad you know it.”

-/-

“I just hope it fits.” Eggsy scanned his surroundings as they exited the Kingsman tailor shop, but there was no taxi in sight, and two emotions followed. His first one was dread, because he felt he’d already indulged Harry Hart enough for one day. But the second one was curiosity, because the truth was that he’d rather enjoyed himself just now. Suits weren’t his thing, would never be, but there _was_ something … powerful about the way he’d felt wearing those fancy, well-fitting fabrics.

And he was, surprisingly enough, enjoying his time with Harry.

“Of course it will fit,” Harry said. “It’ll be custom made.”

“I’m just saying it would be a waste of money if it didn’t,” Eggsy shrugged. “How much will this even cost you?”

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” Harry righted the collar of his black coat, to shield him against the sharp wind – December days could be so fucking cold – and Eggsy followed the way the tips of Harry’s fingers slid against the woolen fabric.

During his lifetime, he’d thought many things about Harry, thought him to be a rude prick, a condescending asshole, an uptight dickhead, and so on, but as he observed him now, observed the gentle way he handled objects, the thoughtful way he spoke words, the consideration with every action he took, different words came to mind. Harry Hart was the sort of gentleman that turned heads in the streets, that piqued people’s interest, that made women’s panties wet, but he was with him, only having attention for him, and Eggsy didn’t know how to feel about that. Because he wasn’t the sort of guv to swoon around another guv. He just didn’t _swoon_.

“Now,” Harry began, drawing Eggsy from his mind. Fuck, had he seen him staring? “There’s this wonderful hat-shop not too far away, I suggest–”

“Eggsy?”

A familiar voice which instantly made Eggsy grin like a fool. “Brandon,” he said, turning and seeing one of his best mates cross the street just to greet him. “Fancy seeing you here.” He took hold of Brandon’s hand and bumped their shoulders together since that was their usual way of greeting.

“I could say the same,” Brandon said. He pushed his Nike cap back a little, as if that would enable him to see Eggsy better. “Your mum said you’d be gone for a while, staying with some old bloke or something.”

“Yes, hello,” Harry said.

Eggsy couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Brandon, meet Harry, the old bloke I’ve been staying with.” He took a step towards Harry and waved a hand at his friend. “Harry, meet Brandon.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said politely.

“What’up?”

Eggsy couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn Harry inwardly cringed. It would have made him laugh again, but then Brandon’s words registered and something sharp and tight curled around his chest. Apprehension settled in his bones.

“When did you see my mum?” He asked. His fingers were already itching to grab hold of something, to break something, because as he thought of his mum, he also thought of Dean.

“This morning.” Brandon looked down then, his weight shifting from one foot to his other. “She looked well, considering.”

“Considering?” The apprehension he’d felt earlier disappeared and made room for anger. No, make that fury. He should never have allowed his mum to send him away, should never have listened to her, because _fuck_ , what had Dean done to her? “Brandon, come on, spill it.”

“Well, you know Dean,” was all Brandon said.

Was all Brandon had to say. Eggsy’s hands turned into fists, the skin of his knuckles turning white. His heart raced against his ribcage and the corners of his vision darkened.

That. Fucking. Asshole!

Spinning around on his heels, Eggsy ignored Harry’s concerned “Eggsy!” and ignored Brandon’s perplexed “Wait up!” as he ran down the street, the wind whistling around his ears. They would never be able to catch up with him, Eggsy always having been able to outrun anyone. Well, almost anyone. On a few rare occasions, when Dean had been exceptionally pissed off, he was able to catch him by the collar of his jacket. But today _he_ was the one pissed off.

Whatever he’d done, whatever Dean felt towards him, he shouldn’t be taking it out on his mum. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He should never have left the other day.

Sprinting across the street, uncaring of the car which had to swerve aside in order to not hit him, Eggsy hurried home, only once looking back over his shoulder, relieved to see no one was following him – no one could follow him.

Crashing through the front door, Eggsy screeched to a halt, heart beating in his throat with how hard and fast he’d been running, and found his mother jumping up from the couch, the skin around her eyes red with how much she’d been crying.

Dean Baker was a fucking dead man.

“Eggsy, what are you doing here?” Michelle hurriedly wiped away the last tears she’d shed and inhaled deeply, steadying herself, but none of that was what had Eggsy’s teeth grinding together. The black eye and split lip did. Without hesitating, without thought, Eggsy closed the distance between them and flung his arms around his mum’s narrow shoulders, pulling her close. “Eggsy, you shouldn’t be here,” she whispered into his ear. She sounded happy and afraid at the same time.

“Mum, look at you.” His fingertips caressed the sore and sensitive skin of Michelle’s face. “Dammit, why’d you send me away?”

Michelle smiled at him then, sadly, poorly, while her hand curled around Eggsy’s wrist. “I’d rather it be me than you,” she said, which only pissed off Eggsy more, because she shouldn’t be taking hits for his sake. She shouldn’t be protecting him. She shouldn’t have to! “Eggsy, listen to me, you’ve got to go before–”

“Well, look who we have here,” came a new voice. Dean’s voice.

Eggsy turned just in time to see a fist coming his way, knuckles landing on his cheek, the force of the blow enough to have him stumble back – and shit, he hadn’t been preparing for a blow like that. His vision tilted, the edges darkening while pain flashed across his face. It was dumb luck and a bit of help from his mum which prevented him from falling.

Michelle began to scream. “Dean, stop it!”

“The kid doesn’t respect me, Michelle,” Dean growled. “I’ll teach him something ‘bout respect.”

Straightening his back, Eggsy threw himself forward, his shoulder hitting Dean in the chest, knocking all air from his lungs. “You gotta show respect to earn it, you dickhead,” he fumed, and for some strange reason his mind twisted towards Harry, but before he could imagine what Harry would have to say if he were to see him like this, Dean grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. A pained hiss escaped Eggsy’s lips without his permission.

Dean knocked his elbow against Eggsy’s face, and Eggsy felt something warm stream down his lips and chin. Blood.

“Dean!” Michelle screamed again. “Stop!”

Furious, because once again Dean was winning the fight, because once again his mum was terrified of what might happen, because once again Daisy was awoken by their mess – he could hear her cry in the other room – Eggsy gathered all his strength to land a blow against Dean’s face, aiming to break his nose, only for his mum to jump in front of him, shielding him from Dean, and Dean from him.

“Move, Michelle,” Dean demanded.

“Enough,” Michelle called surprisingly strict. Her chest was heaving with how heavily she was breathing and her hair hung messily in front of her eyes. “ _Enough_ ,” she repeated, and turned to lock gazes with her son. “Eggsy, go.” She planted a quick kiss against the top of his head before giving him a push. “Please, Eggsy, go. You promised.”

 _You promised_. What else could he do in that moment? Continue the fight and risk getting his ass kicked? Continue hurting his mother and frightening his little sister? His head turned towards the closed door of Daisy’s bedroom. She was still crying, loudly, panicked, and he wished he could go to her, knew he could calm her, pick her up in his arms and tell her everything would be okay, but that wasn’t what he’d promised.

Staring into his mother’s light blue eyes, he silently told her he was sorry, for everything, for stealing that car and messing up, for hurting her, for once again putting her into this torn position, before turning and heading out the door.

Dean grumbled something behind his back, but Eggsy didn’t listen, didn’t pay him any attention, because Dean wasn’t worth it. He never would be.

It took every ounce of strength in his body to keep walking, to not turn around, to not go grab Daisy and bring her along with him. It took every ounce of will to not scream his lungs out, in anger, in fury, in impotence and disappointment, hurt and hate. It took every ounce of self-control, too, not to allow tears to run down his cheeks.

What began as sauntering quickly evolved into marching and, eventually, into running. At first, he didn’t know what he was running to. No, he figured he was just running away, which made him such a huge fucking coward, but then he began to recognize the streets and the houses and the trees. The sounds of the city changed, the air clearing, the noise of cars disappearing, and before Eggsy was well aware of where he was, he stood in front of a white house at the very end of a blind alley.

He couldn’t bring himself to walk up to the front door and knock, however, because it was now clearer than ever that he didn’t belong here. Glancing down, Eggsy sighed at the sight of his jacket and T-shirt stained red with blood. At least it was his own. Which reminded him of the pain in his face. It suddenly became overwhelming, too intense, and Eggsy lowered his head, hands leaning on his knees in a desperate effort not to fall. He’d love nothing more than to fall, really, than to lay on the cold, wet floor and stare up at the grey sky and just be left alone, but life was never that kind to him.

The front door opened and Harry Hart appeared, still wearing his suit, but having lost the fancy jacket. One hand was buried in the pocket of his trousers and his other held a glass of what was either whiskey or bourbon. His lips were pressed into two thin lines and his gaze revealed absolutely nothing, though his body betrayed enough. The rigidness to his shoulders, the vein throbbing at the side of his neck, the taut lines around his mouth, it was enough to reveal aggravation. Which Eggsy honestly didn’t think he deserved right now.

Only when he straightened his back could Harry see the blood on his face and T-shirt and everything about him softened instantly, his dark gaze showing concern suddenly as well as a hint of hostility, but it wasn’t aimed at him. Eggsy couldn’t help but grin a little. It was nice knowing that Harry disliked Dean, too.

“Come inside, Eggsy,” Harry said kindly, already turning and heading into the kitchen.

Eggsy did as he was told – Harry should feel honored – and sat down at the dining room table, legs stretched out in front of him and head thrown back, eyes falling shut. He could hear Harry rummaging about in the kitchen and the noise soothed him, calmed the racing of his heart, because he was safe here. Dean wouldn’t find him here. Dean would never _bother_ to find him here.

“I wish you hadn’t run off, Eggsy,” Harry said when he re-entered the room, holding a bowl of warm water and a towel draped across his shoulder. He sat down and dipped the corner of the towel into the water before bringing it up to Eggsy’s face, gently washing away the now-dried blood sticking to his skin.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Eggsy asked, irritated.

“We could have come to a solution together,” Harry argued. His eyes never left the towel. Eggsy wished he’d look at him, wished he’d look him in the eyes and see that he’d already shown enough cowardice for one lifetime. “One where you didn’t end up with a black eye and a bloody nose.”

“Because you have such experience with abusive assholes?” Eggsy shot back.

Harry’s hand paused and finally, _finally,_ he glanced up to meet Eggsy’s gaze. He was wearing those dark-rimmed glasses again, making his gaze more intense, but Eggsy refused to break eye-contact. “Fighting violence with violence isn’t always the correct answer,” he said, and, oh fuck, there he was again, that posh prick who felt better than everyone else. It had taken Eggsy a while to come to like the guy, but it only took a few words to shatter it all.

Eggsy angrily shoved Harry’s hand away from his face. “Why are you even doing this?” He demanded to know. “Am I your charity goal? Does taking me in make you feel better than the rest of us?” Jumping up to his feet, Eggsy hit the edge of the table with his hip, causing the bowl of now pink water to crash to the floor, but he didn’t care. “Dean’s an asshole, but at least he doesn’t hide it. You do. You’re the worst kind.”

Harry didn’t even rise to his feet. “Eggsy–” he began.

“No, it’s true,” Eggsy raged on. “You’re dressed all fancy, wearing overpriced, lavish suits, with a neat haircut and a clean shave, and for a moment you got me fooled. For a moment, I thought you were nice and I thought I understood why my dad liked you, but you’re just as big an asshole as Dean is. You hide behind those glasses, condescending me and my mum, feeling better than us and, well, screw you Harry Hart!”

He had no air left in his lungs.

Harry stared at him, unblinking. “Are you done?”

His indifference nearly sent Eggsy over the edge. His fingers itched to hurt, to break, but he held back, focusing on the feeling of his nails digging into the palms of his hands instead.

“Yeah, I’m done,” he hissed, turning and heading to the front door, pulling it open with such force that it collided with the wall. It might leave a mark, but he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking _care._ He was too pissed off.

“Eggsy, please come back so we–”

A woman stood at the front door, Eggsy having nearly crashed into her. If she felt taken aback by his brutality, then she sure didn’t show it. Taken aback himself, Eggsy stumbled, his hand latching onto the door handle to prevent him from falling. It seemed he was doing a lot of nearly-falling lately.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” The woman asked, heading tilted sideways.

Not a woman, Eggsy decided, but a girl. He let his gaze run down her body, taking in the black suit she wore, which was fucking hilarious, because of course Harry’s friends would wear the same sort of outfits. She even wore the same pair of glasses. Her blond hair had been pulled into a tight ponytail, making her look younger than she really was. So maybe a woman after all.

“Ah, Roxanne,” Harry said, coming to stand next to Eggsy, a smile on his face. A genuine smile. It angered Eggsy beyond rationality that there were no outwardly signs of their fight earlier. No, everything about Harry Hart screamed calmness. “I didn’t expect you this early, but please, come in.”

“Thank you.” The woman held out her hand for Eggsy to shake – which he did. “Everyone calls me Roxy, though. Only Mr. Hart doesn’t.”

Harry chuckled. “Only because you refuse to call me Harry.”

What the fuck? Eggsy stepped back, arms crossed before his chest, baffled to see Harry interact so easily with this woman two minutes after their argument, and frustrated that his grand, dramatic exit had been botched. But mostly baffled. And a tad jealous. Why? He didn’t fucking know.

“I’m very sorry to disturb your evening, _Harry_ ,” Roxy began, a glint of enjoyment to her eyes, “But there’s a work issue that needs our attention.”

“I’ve been informed,” Harry sighed. His attention shifted back to Eggsy. “I really must handle this now. Can we continue our conversation later?”

How kindly he put it. _Their conversation_. “Sure thing, guv,” Eggsy snapped. He wasn’t really aware of what he was saying anymore. Or doing. Exhaustion settled in his bones and pain pulsed through his face. All he wanted was to find some peace and quiet to order his thoughts, to figure out when exactly everything had gone wrong in his life, and fantasize about shoving Dean off a bridge. A pleasant thought, really. He might even go ahead and imagine shoving Harry Hart off from one, too.

“It was nice to meet you,” Roxy smiled.

“Yeah, you, too,” Eggsy replied.

They went through to the dining room, stepping around the mess Eggsy had made, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Eggsy to stand alone in the hallway. He was expected to head upstairs, to rest, to behave, but Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to take that first step up the stairs. He couldn’t bring himself to seek closure. He wouldn’t be himself if he did, but if he wouldn’t stay here and he couldn’t go home, so there were very few other places he could turn to.

His friends would gladly invite him into their home, but they’d try and cheer him up, offer him a beer, make jokes, laugh, and Eggsy wasn’t in such a mood. No, he wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a while, make sense of them, and figure out his next move in life, because it was becoming all too clear that whatever direction he’d chosen, it wouldn’t lead anywhere interesting.

So maybe it was time for a change, but for a change, he needed money.

Thank fuck he knew exactly the kind of guy who could offer him just that.


	3. I Don't Need Your Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ado...

Harry adjusted the cufflinks matching his suit for the umpteenth time as he stared into his own dark eyes through the mirror, wondering what exactly Eggsy had seen last time he’d looked into them. He’d been offended, hurt even, and Harry cursed himself for not choosing his words more carefully. The last thing he’d wanted was to upset the boy.

Only he wasn’t a boy, not anymore. Harry had watched Eggsy grow from a toddler into a child, had witnessed him becoming a teenager and, finally, a young adult man fully capable of making his own choices. Merlin had often asked him why he continued to visit the Unwins, year after year, and he always replied the same; because they were Lee’s family. He liked to think he was looking after them, because it was the least he owed Lee after getting him killed, but the truth couldn’t be further from it. Which meant Eggsy was right; he was a hypocrite.

His only wish was that Eggsy had stayed long enough so he could at least have admitted that, but after his brief meeting with Roxy, he’d returned to find the dining room and the rest of the house empty. He’d wanted to go after him, find him, apologize to him, but work demanded his full attention, and priorities had to be set.

Except that Merlin had set them for him. He would have gone after him, had already set one foot out of the house, but Merlin’s voice had called him back, had reasoned with him, told him it was pointless to go out into the night to try and find someone who wouldn’t want to be found, and thus he’d gone back inside, albeit reluctantly, and listened to Merlin explaining the plan to him through earpiece.

A plan he was to execute tonight.

The door behind him opened, Roxy walking into the room with a timid smile playing around the corners of her lips. She was still young, still enjoyed every aspect of the job. She hadn’t yet lost anyone. Harry envied her.

“Are you ready?” In her arms, she held a tablet with the final information Harry needed to know to bring the mission to a good end.

“Will you be joining me tonight?” He asked in return.

It earned him a raised eyebrow. “How well were you listening last night?”

Sighing, Harry lowered his gaze and stared at the tips of his shoes. They were Oxford-style. His favorite. “Well enough to know what I must do tonight,” he settled on. “Do you have the invite?”

“It’s already been sent to your phone, Mr. Bloom.”

 _Mr. Bloom_ , his current alias. Harry righted his back and straightened his jacket. They had been working on this mission for months already. They weren’t supposed to be working on it again for at least a few weeks, but then Mr. Freely, their target, had decided to host a party and since he was rapidly becoming part of Mr. Freely’s inner circle – to gather enough intel to put him behind bars – Harry simply couldn’t miss tonight. Which was rather bad timing, because it meant he had been forced to let Eggsy go.

“Merlin will be with you the whole time.” They were words Roxy didn’t need say. Harry had been doing this job for a lot longer than she did, had probably already been doing it when she had still been potty-training, so he knew Merlin wouldn’t leave him even if he begged him to. “Remember, the objective is to find any kind of documents that prove Francis Freely is involved with anything other than drug-trafficking,” Roxy added.

Because why catch a guy on charges of drug-trafficking when you could pin human-trafficking on him, too? At least, that was what they’d come to suspect. So far, they hadn’t been able to find any specific evidence.

“I know, Roxy,” Harry said, looking at her through the mirror.

Her timid smile grew. “You called me Roxy,” she beamed.

“Yes,” Harry replied. He turned and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. He really did like the girl. “But for now, call me Mr. Bloom.”

-/-

It was exactly the kind of party Harry had expected it to be – expensive, extravagant, ostentatious, and atrocious, but when he entered the excessively decorated main hallway, he was smiling nonetheless, as if thrilled to be here. The truth was that he did feel a pinch of excitement, mainly because he was given the chance to bring down an abominable man, but a much bigger part of him wanted to turn around, leave, and go knock on Michelle Unwin’s front door, hoping to find her son there.

Harry forced the thought from his mind. He couldn’t think about Eggsy right now, had to let go of the situation, because there was nothing to be done about it now, and he had a job to do. A job Merlin kept reminding him about. Ceaselessly.

 _‘Ten o’clock, Harry,’_ came Merlin’s voice in his ear.

“I saw,” Harry muttered under his breath, knowing Merlin would hear him just fine.

Before the target arrived, however, a waiter stepped up to him, offering him a plate full of champagne. Harry picked up a glass without intending to drink from it, but he had to blend in, especially since – ah, there he was, finally, his _ten o’clock_.

“Mr. Bloom.” Francis Freely halted before him with a smile plastered to his face and a petit redheaded woman curled around his arm. She was most definitely not his wife. “I was hoping to see you here tonight. I’m glad my invitation found you well.”

“Of course,” Harry replied politely. And sweetly. It was of the utmost importance that Freely liked him. “Where else would I be?”

“This is the place to be tonight, indeed,” Freely laughed. He was a man with a big ego who loved being praised, but unfortunately, he was also a smart man. There was a reason, after all, why he’d climbed up the social ladder so quickly. And why he was making such amounts of money so quickly.

Harry pointed his glass into Freely’s direction, as if toasting to him, and took a small sip. Sacrifices were always necessary on evenings such as these. Drinking on the job was the least of their concerns. “Thank you for the invitation,” he said.

“Tonight promises to be a special night,” Freely smirked, and Harry felt dread trickle down the back of his neck. His gaze already slipped towards the redhead. “I’ve arranged for a distinctive form of entertainment.” Freely pulled his arm free from the woman’s grip and nudged her closer towards Harry. “Meet Natalie. She can be your companion for the evening, if you wish.”

The woman, Natalie, smiled seductively at him.

 _‘Oh, this is lovely,’_ Merlin sighed in his ear.

“I am honored by your attentiveness, Miss Natalie.” Harry picked up her hand and gently kissed the back of it. “But for now, I feel quite content on my own.”

“What a shame.” Freely’s entire demeanor changed, he grew disheartened, but only for the briefest of moments. Curling his arm around Natalie’s waist, pulling her closer again, he grinned like a fool. It annoyed Harry that Natalie didn’t seem to mind, that she even went as far as to giggle when Freely’s hand slipped discourteously low down her back, and Harry averted his gaze when Freely kissed the side of her neck. “Should you change your mind,” Freely said, “then by all means, chose who you like. A golden bracelet is free range.” He lifted Natalie’s hand in the air and showed him the embellishment around her wrist.

Harry’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“There are rooms available,” Freely continued lightly. “Up the stairs, to your right.”

“I shall remember,” Harry had to force the words out.

 _‘A perfect set-up, Harry.’’_ Merlin sounded pleased.

Harry knew what he was thinking. But he didn’t want to think it himself, not just yet. “But first–” He had to keep his attention firmly with their target, “–I think I will enjoy this lovely glass of champagne.”

 _‘Wrap it up now.’_ It came as no surprise that Merlin was already getting impatient, wanting to get to the real work. _‘There’s work to do.’_

As if on cue, more guests arrived, and Freely excused himself, thankfully taking Natalie along with him. Harry let out a burdened sigh once they were gone and stepped into the ballroom where the heart of the party was apparently located. Music played softly in the background, barely audible, because so many people were chatting, laughing, and dancing. It actually seemed like a decent enough gala, weren’t it for the prostitutes Freely had apparently hired to entertain his guests. Harry didn’t even want to imagine what was happening in those bedrooms upstairs.

 _‘Scan the room for me,’_ Merlin said. _‘Give me as many faces as you can.’_

Harry kindly granted Merlin the request. The more faces they captured, the more arrests could be carried out. Sauntering around the room, Harry continued to sip from his glass while listening to the sound of a keyboard clacking away, Merlin’s fingers working magic as he identified all the people present. And none of them had a clue. It was a wonderfully satisfying sentiment that filled his bones.

 _‘Is that the minister of health?’_ Merlin questioned at one point, but Harry wasn’t really listening to Merlin’s incessant rants. He’d learned a long time ago to tune out his voice whenever he could.

There was something toxic about watching all these people in this room. The smiles, the secretive touches, the music, the dancing. It all made the air strangely thick to breathe. Harry continued to meander around the room, his gaze moving towards a bar where two women were locked in a passionate kiss. He made sure he gave Merlin a good view of the drugs lying openly on the counter beside them. No golden bracelets, though, so that was a relief. Harry didn’t even want to think about all the ways Freely had used to force these men and women to work for him, to pleasure his guests for him, to–

His heart skipped a beat and Harry stopped dead in his tracks, his grip on the glass in his hand tightening to point where it might shatter beneath the tips of his fingers.

 _‘Harry, are your glasses still working? The image isn’t moving anymore – no wait, it is still moving.’_ Merlin sounded confused. A rarity. _‘Why aren’t_ you _moving anymore, Harry?’_

Harry made his way across the room, people parting ways for him when they saw the expression on his face. Utter shock and fury.  At least, that was what Harry assumed they saw. At this point, it was a mystery to him. He didn’t even know himself what was flooding through his body. In any case, it was something hard and hot at the same time, and his fingers itched to break … something.

 _‘Harry?’_ Merlin was beginning to sound worried. _‘What’s happening, Harry?’_ No doubt he was reading high levels of adrenaline, paired with a rapid heartbeat.

When his hand curled around the young man’s arm, forcing him around, Harry was met with a pair of stunned, bright blue eyes. “What the fuck, bruv?” The young man stumbled back, consternation visible on his face, eyebrows shooting up, followed by a baffled, “Harry?”

Merlin cursed in his ear – something about his alias threatening to fall apart – but Harry didn’t care.

“Leave,” Harry hissed to the man who’d had Eggsy’s attention only moments earlier – the man who was clever enough to actually do as he was told, skidding away with his tail between his legs, cheeks flushed red.

Eggsy stared at him, utterly confused.

Which was a sentiment Harry shared. “What are you doing here?” He demanded to know.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Eggsy’s voice was high and uneven.

“I asked first.” It was petty, childish even, but Harry felt too much outrage and distress to care, his hands trembling, so he set his glass of champagne aside. What he really wanted to do, was grab Eggsy’s hands and drag him out of here, put as much distance between them and Freely, but he wasn’t a fool. There was still a mission he had to complete before the end of the evening.

 _‘Harry?’_ Merlin asked.

“You’re aware what kind of gig this is, right?” Eggsy questioned defensively, arms crossed before his chest – which was when Harry spotted the golden bracelet adorning Eggsy’s wrist.

Now his fingers itched to break Freely’s neck.

“You’re working for Freely?” He hadn’t meant to sound like this. Harry didn’t even know how he sounded. Disappointed? Aggravated? Crushed? Whatever he sounded like, it caused Eggsy to withdraw, to physically recoil, lips pressed tightly together, which wasn’t what Harry had intended for. He didn’t want to pick a fight, didn’t want to hurt Eggsy, but the fact remained that he was nervous, because this was a situation he had no control over. “Are you aware what kind of man Freely is?” He settled on.

_‘Harry, come on. The mission.’_

It was easy ignoring Merlin.

“Are you?” Eggsy shot back. He shook his head and let out a surprised huff of air. “Honestly, I didn’t expect this, you being friends with a guy like Freely. Thought you were too posh and uptight for that. Honoring the law and all that shit.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What?”

That was all Harry could think about. Freely’s hands on Eggsy’s body, hurting him, bruising him, forcing him into this. “What did he do?” Harry asked. “To make you work for him?”

“Oh, this is just great,” Eggsy growled suddenly. “There’s that condescending shit again.” He took a step back, away from Harry – which caused panic to grip Harry’s muscles and forcing him forward, Harry’s hand reaching out to take hold of Eggsy’s wrist. “So what I accepted money for this job? We’re not all raised with golden spoons feeding our mouths.”

_‘Harry Hart, we’ve got a job to complete, remember?’_

“You have to get out of here, Eggsy,” Harry all but pleaded.

“Oh sure,” Eggsy mocked, eyes rolling. “I’ll just leave and not get paid while you continue to enjoy your expensive champagne and female company.”

“I’ll pay you double.” The words left Harry’s mouth without his permission, the thought having come to him before he’d been able to process it, but he meant it, meant every word. “Whatever Freely is paying you, I’ll pay double if you leave right now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Eggsy tugged at his hand, wishing to free himself of Harry’s death-grip, but Harry wasn’t ready yet to let go. “I’m not gonna be arrogant and assume I know you, but I do like to think I know you well enough to know you don’t belong at a party like this.”

Harry’s head swam. Like he’d had too much champagne. Only he’d barely had any. No, this was the effect Eggsy had on him. It messed with him, threw him off balance. Merlin’s voice continuously thundering in his ear, still demanding what was going on, telling Harry to focus on the job, wasn’t helping either.

“Eggsy–”

“Everything alright, Mr. Bloom?”

Eggsy’s wrist escaped his grip.

Harry cleared his throat and conjured a smile on his face.  His hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers. “Everything is alright, Mr. Freely.”

Freely’s gaze shifted uncertainty between Harry and Eggsy, a frown on his face, thoughts clearly ticking behind his eyes, but then, apparently, he decided to toss them all out, a smile matching Harry’s curling his lips upward. “I see I was wrong introducing you to Natalie,” he joked.

 _‘Can we please focus again now?’_ Merlin demanded.

“You should have said,” Freely added.

Harry politely inclined his head. Francis Freely was the mission, but it was hard dealing with him while Eggsy stood right beside him. Working for Freely. Fucking hell, this wasn’t what Harry had expected when he’d stepped through the front door, and while he’d been trained for unexpected situations, he felt clueless about this one. “Natalie seemed like a very nice girl,” he said. “I wouldn’t have wanted to offend her.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Bloom absolutely loathes offending anyone,” Eggsy butted in.

When Harry locked gazes with him, Eggsy smirked.

“I am sensing something here,” Freely said, and placed a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. Harry had to refrain himself from shoving Freely away. “I take it you _will_ be using the rooms upstairs?”

 _‘Say yes, Harry,’_ Merlin urged. _‘This is our way in.’_

The perfect opportunity to sneak into Freely’s office which was, undoubtedly, also upstairs. Harry knew exactly what Merlin was thinking and, while it made sense, Harry also felt resistance. He didn’t want to involve Eggsy even more than he already was, felt the urge to protect the boy, in any way he could. He’d failed to do so before and he refused to fail a second time. That wasn’t his nature.

“I think I will.” Harry felt slightly nauseous as he spoke the words. “Thank you, Mr. Freely.”

Eggsy looked nothing short of bewildered and appalled, and Harry blamed Merlin. He also regretted Roxy not being present. The entire night would have been so much easier then. He could have simply whisked Eggsy away from this place while Roxy could have carried out the rest of their mission. It made Harry appreciate the young agent even more.

Freely briefly touched Harry’s arm, giving it a pleased squeeze, and left. Finally.

Harry turned all his attention back to the young Unwin. “Eggsy–”

“What the fuck is going on, _Mr. Bloom?_ ” Eggsy snapped, and Harry sighed. Tonight was never going to be easy, but he definitely hadn’t expected this many obstacles. “You a copper or something?”

“Or something,” Harry sighed, feeling tired. “I shall explain all tonight, if you promise to go home now and wait for me there.”

Eggsy stared at him, arms crossed before his chest again, fingers drumming against his upper arms. “You working some kind of undercover mission right now? Is that why you’re sexing up Freely?”

Harry physically parted his lips to form a reply, to object to the use of ‘sexing’, only to decide it would be pointless to argue. Because in a way, that was exactly what he’d been doing. Appeasing the man, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear, manipulating and controlling him. Eggsy simply used a more forward term to describe it.

“How do you even know that man?” Harry closed his eyes and rubbed a finger against his brow, trying to push back an oncoming headache. He praised himself lucky Merlin had been keeping quiet for a while already. Or maybe he wasn’t even there anymore, already having gone to Arthur to complain the lack of professionalism on Harry’s part. Only that wasn’t true. Harry knew Merlin would never stab him in the back like that. “Have you been buying from him?”

“Hell no,” Eggsy said. “I don’t do that shit.”

What a relief.

“Dean knows the guy,” Eggsy explained. “And I was desperate, needed money.”

Because he’d pushed the boy away. Harry cursed himself. “Freely is a worse character than you’ve been giving him credit for,” he said. “He’s expanding his business, working his way from drug-trafficking to human-trafficking, and he needs to be stopped.”

“No shit.” Eggsy looked horrified.

“That’s my job for tonight.” Harry glanced around, needing to make sure no one was listening in to their conversation. “That’s why I’m here. I have to gather any sort of evidence that will put Freely behind bars, but I cannot do this while you’re here.”

“I can help,” Eggsy said.

 _‘Not a chance, Harry.’_ Oh, so Merlin wasn’t actually gone.

“I don’t think that will be a good idea,” Harry said.

“You need to get upstairs, right?” Eggsy’s arms dropped down again, one hand snatching up the glass of champagne Harry had put aside earlier, his other sneaking around Harry’s side – Harry whose mind momentarily froze with how close Eggsy suddenly stood, their sides pressed together. He could smell Eggsy’s cologne now, and count the number of freckles on his nose. He’d never noticed before Eggsy had freckles. “You can’t go upstairs alone and I happen to know exactly where Freely’s office is.”

Harry caught fragrances of lavender, roses, and tobacco as he inhaled the scents, and a shiver ran down his back. Without thinking, his arm curled around Eggsy’s waist, fingers against Eggsy’s hip.

Merlin’s voice called him back to reason.

_‘Send the boy home, Harry!’_

“So the girl,” Eggsy said, his voice helping Harry focus again. And also reminding him of what was going on. The mission, sure, but also the fact that Harry was starting to get some seriously immoral thoughts concerning the son of a deceased colleague of his. Lee Unwin would rise from the grave if such a thing could happen. “Is she a copper, too?”

“We’re not with the police.” They were making their way across the ballroom and towards the main stairwell that would lead them up to the first floor. Harry refused to give Eggsy’s hand against his side any attention. He also refused to watch Eggsy bring the glass of champagne to his lips, leaving them wet with the delicious, golden liquid, his tongue flicking out to lick at the– No, he was _not_ focusing on that.

 _‘Your heartrate is rising again, Harry,’_ Merlin informed him. _‘Is everything alright?’_

“Like I said, I will explain everything at home.”

They reached the first floor, but instead of going right, Eggsy led them left, and as soon as they rounded the corner, Harry let go of the young man and hoped his heartrate would drop again. The last thing he needed tonight was Merlin working things out and him having to come up with a reasonable, but false explanation.

“Here it is.” Eggsy pointed at the door in front of them.

Which was locked, obviously, guarded by a high-tech security system, but Merlin was already working his magic again – Harry could hear by the rapid ticking of a keyboard again – and, honestly, he’d be lost without him.

“I need to work out the code–” He began to explain, only for Eggsy to push him aside.

“I know the code,” Eggsy said, and ticked in fourteen different numbers. “What?” He questioned with a careless shrug when spotting Harry’s puzzled expression. “Freely brought me here earlier to settle my pay-check. And I happen to be good at remembering numbers.”

The boy kept surprising him.

Once inside the office, Harry got to work, finally able to focus entirely on the job at hand. Perhaps it was easier now that the evening was coming to an end. Just crack the safe, film the documents so Merlin could dissect them, and go home. Get Eggsy out of here. It was only a matter of minutes now. Because cracking safes happened to be Merlin’s specialty.

The documents inside the safe were everything they needed; lists full of names, with birth-dates and addresses. Harry took a good look at it all, his glasses scanning the papers and sending them directly to Merlin’s inbox. The first list were Freely’s known associates, with codes next to the names. Undoubtedly codes that would unlock dirt on Freely’s computer. No one rose to the top so quickly without a bit of blackmail thrown in the mix.

The second list was different, however, and the first name to catch Harry’s attention was _Natalie Johansson._ It had to be the redhead.

When Merlin informed him, once again, of an irregular heartbeat, Harry didn’t bother to come up with an excuse to explain it. Another name on the list made him glance up at Eggsy standing by the door, leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. _Gary Unwin_ was one of the last names, his date of birth and address neatly written in the columns next to the name. And a number. Too small to be a phone number. Too big to be an age or anything else of that sort. A price.

“We’ve got everything.” Harry placed the documents back in the safe, exactly how he’d found them, and stood. “Let’s get out of here.” He had to get Eggsy out of here, away from this place, away from Freely.

They hurried down the hallway, back towards the staircase, only for voices to drift their way.

Freely.

Harry nearly groaned. They couldn’t be seen escaping the party.

Eggsy seemed to be thinking the same. “Come on,” he said, grabbing hold of Harry’s hand, his grip tight, and dragging him into another hallway. The hallway to the right, Harry realized.

Ten doors were closed, two were still open, and Harry felt the bottom of his stomach dropping away when he heard moans and other sounds of pleasure coming from inside the rooms. Now, he might be a typical English gentleman, but that didn’t mean he opposed anyone chasing pleasure. He wasn’t appalled by sex. He wasn’t even appalled by prostitution. No, what made him feel nauseous was knowing that Freely was getting involved with human-trafficking and everyone present here was in danger. And they didn’t even know it.

Once again his gaze slid towards Eggsy. His name was on the list, too.

“Do you trust me?” Eggsy asked.

Harry nodded – and then Eggsy was pushing him against the wall with his body, hands fisting his black jacket and his head dipping to kiss the side of Harry’s neck.

 _‘Must we?’_ Merlin groaned.

Harry’s mind momentarily grinded to a halt, because yes, those were Eggsy’s surprisingly soft lips against his skin and, yes, that was Eggsy’s surprisingly lean body against his own. It was pure instinct that made Harry’s hands seek Eggsy’s sides, to ground himself, to find purchase, but it might be less than instinct when his hips bucked to meet Eggsy’s knee wiggling between his legs.

He was fucking screwed.

Fuck!

He wasn’t usually a man who cursed a lot, who reserved those F-words for very rare occasions, but as Eggsy’s lips slipped further down, tongue briefly flicking out to swipe against a pulsating vein, Harry deemed this occasion worthy.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_

“Eggsy–” was all that escaped him, eyes having fluttered shut, before another presence cleared his throat, demanding their attention.

Francis Freely was watching them with amusement in his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” he said, hands folding behind his back. “I see you haven’t yet found your way into one of the rooms.”

“That’s exactly it, Mr. Freely,” Eggsy said, spinning around. His hands didn’t unlock from Harry’s body, though. His hair was a mess and his lips stood swollen, his cheeks had a healthy flushed color, and Harry had to use every ounce of strength he had left in his body not to pull the young man right back. And shield him from Freely’s gaze. Damn, he hated it that Freely got to see Eggsy like this. And he hated that he enjoyed the sight, too, because what a beautiful sight it was. “Mr. Bloom is too much of a gentleman to use them,” Eggsy explained. “Somethin’ about strange beds and unhygienic sheets.”

“I’d love to take him home with me,” Harry continued, playing along with Eggsy’s tale and ignoring Merlin’s impressed _‘The boy has got good spy-instincts’_. “I would feel much more comfortable between the walls of my own bedroom.” The words felt alien in his mouth, wrong, but he’d been on enough missions and he’d worked through enough unsettling conditions to not let it show. No, the smile on his face revealed only wanton and lust.

“It is an unusual request,” Freely said, hesitant.

“You told me to do everything within my power to satisfy your guests, Mr. Freely,” Eggsy said. “Let me do my job. I’ll report back in the morning.”

“Expect a large donation to your company in return,” Harry said.

Freely eyed them both, his gaze slipping from Eggsy’s lips to his hands still firmly on Harry’s body, to Harry’s tussled hair and the hickey evident in his neck. “Who am I to oppose a night full of pleasure?” Freely grinned and reached to slap a hand against Harry’s shoulder, the gesture amicable. “Enjoy the boy, Mr. Bloom. Who knows, should you like him for more than one evening, a price might be agreed upon.” Harry half expected him to wink.

Eggsy was smart enough not to react.

Merlin was smart enough not to mention Harry’s heartrate spiking again, with anger this time.

“Thank you, Mr. Freely,” Harry kept on smiling. The only thing keeping him from punching the man square in the face was knowing that tomorrow Francis Freely wouldn’t be a free man anymore. They had enough evidence to make an arrest, to put the criminal away for years to come.

If it were up to Harry, he’d never see the light of day again.


	4. You Will Let Me Down Down Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter. Thank you, everyone, who has taken the time to read this! Thank you, Shells19, for being my awesome beta!

Eggsy could never have guessed that returning to the last house in the dead-end street would ever feel like coming home. It had felt like a punishment before, karma coming to bite him in the ass, his mother sending him to the seventh ring of hell, but as Marcus halted the car in front of the house, Eggsy felt relief wash over him like a warm blanket engulfing him completely. Or maybe that warm blanket was really Harry Hart. Eggsy couldn’t figure it out, didn’t _want_ to figure it out, because it was late – a little past midnight – and he was tired. No, make that exhausted.

Without another word, they got out of the car, Eggsy following Harry inside, silently. There had been a few moments during the drive where he had expected Harry to talk, his lips parting, his body shifting where he sat, his fingers drumming against his knee, but he hadn’t actually said anything, and Eggsy hadn’t found the courage to speak either. Hell, he didn’t even have the courage to look him in the eye. Gone was the confident young man from an hour before, and Eggsy honestly didn’t know where he went. He didn’t understand.

He paused by the front door, unable to walk further into the house, his muscles and bones feeling so fucking heavy suddenly, dragging him down, holding him back. Hell, part of him wanted to turn around and run. That he was good at; running.

“Eggsy?” Harry’s voice sounded soft. Careful.

Finally, fucking _finally_ , Eggsy lifted his gaze to meet Harry’s and, for the briefest of moments, his breath got trapped inside his lungs. He’d expected to find so many goddamn things in Harry’s eyes – disbelief and disappointment and displeasure and disapproval, and so many other sentiments starting with ‘dis’ – but instead he found nothing. Harry’s gaze was indecipherable, his thoughts shielded. Eggsy couldn’t read the man and he felt too tired to guess.

“What are you thinking?” he asked while Harry closed the front door behind them. The click of the lock sounded so loud suddenly. “What are you thinking now that you know of my … extracurricular activities?” It was a terrible choice of words and Eggsy cursed himself for it, but what else could he have called it? He’d never been ashamed of it, had never bothered to be, but with Harry, fuck – with Harry it felt like it mattered. “Do you loathe me?”

It was genuine shock that filled Harry’s face; lips parting, eyebrows pressing together, eyes narrowing. “Loathe you?”

Eggsy stared at the man, unblinking. “I’m a rentboy,” he said.

“And I’m a spy,” Harry replied without missing a beat. Eggsy was unable to follow Harry’s logic. “You think I’ve never slept with a target to aid a mission?” Harry took off his glasses, sliding them into the pocket of his jacket, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked about as exhausted as Eggsy felt. “I promise you that I’ll explain everything in the morning, I owe it to you, but I’ve got a debrief with Merlin first.”

“Merlin?”

Harry smiled tiredly. “A colleague.”

Another spy. Were they MI-6? That would mean his father had been part of a secret intelligence service, a fact his mother had conveniently never mentioned to him before – although, he supposed she just never knew. Eggsy had always just assumed Lee Unwin was a soldier who gave his life for his country, which was still entirely true, except ‘soldier’ needed to be replaced by ‘spy’.

His dad was a fucking _spy_.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, nodding. “I long for a bed anyway.”

“Good.” Harry seemed relieved. And pleased. “You know the way.”

Eggsy was already making his way up the stairs, skipping every other step, when Harry called out his name again, and when he turned around, he was met with a pair of dark brown eyes that were filled with uncertainty. “Yes, Harry?” He asked, the sentiment rubbing off on him, suddenly unsure of what to expect. Harry Hart and self-doubt wasn’t a combination that fit.

“You’ll be here in the morning, right?” Harry asked.

The question put a smile on Eggsy’s face and surety filled him.  “Yes, Harry.”

-/-

No matter how exhausted he’d felt, Eggsy hadn’t been able to sleep, too many questions shifting through his mind, keeping him awake. He kept wondering how exactly his father had died. Had Harry been there? Somehow, he’d never bothered to ask during one of their many tea-parties, mainly because Eggsy had always been looking for an excuse to leave. And because he’d never cared, really. His father had been dead, like so many other soldiers, so what did it matter? But it _did_ matter, Eggsy realized. His father’s death, his absence, had decided the course of his life. Good and bad. It sounded ridiculously cliché in his head.

It was early in the morning, the sun only just peeking over the horizon, when Eggsy gave up on sleep and crawled out of bed, his feet seemingly filled with lead. The house was quiet and because Eggsy didn’t knew whether Harry was asleep or still working, he descended the stairs as silently as possible, making his way across the dining room, across the kitchen, and eventually outside. Not to leave. No, for the first time in a long time, Eggsy had no intention of running. What he needed was fresh air. And a cigarette.

His mother would have his head should she see him right now. She always hated the disgusting habit despite smoking herself, which kind of made her a hypocrite. But whatever. With everything that had happened lately, Eggsy craved nicotine almost as much as he craved air, so his mother’s imagined objections were easily wiped from his mind. It was weak, sure, but he didn’t care. He was alone, so it wouldn’t bother anyone.

Sliding down against the wall, having a nice view of the rising sun, Eggsy placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it up. Inhaling deeply, smoke filling his lungs, Eggsy felt his muscles already relax, his head falling back, thumping against the white bricks, and his eyes slid shut. The cold morning air helped clear his head and it was nice not having a dozen different thoughts crash into his mind and filling him with worry and anxiety. It was nice not having to replay last night's events over and over and over again in his head, making his stomach twist and churn. Though it _was_ nice remembering Harry shoved up against that wall by his hands, feeling nothing but taut muscles, and all but assaulting him with his mouth.

But then there was Francis Freely. Eggsy hated himself for having turned to him, because he knew the kind of man he was and yet he’d still gone to him. Dean worked for him, too, which honestly said enough. He’d known about the drugs, about the violence of his organization, the corruptness, and while he hadn’t known Freely was working his way into human-trafficking, it was no excuse. What a mess he’d made.

“Here you are.”

Startled, Eggsy’s eyes fluttered open. Harry Hart stood directly in front of him, blocking the early sunlight, with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his fingers drumming against his upper arms. Eggsy’s vision needed a moment to adjust, to focus, which was when he spotted relief on Harry’s face. Relief and disgust.

Reluctantly, Eggsy smothered the cigarette against the ground and flicked it away – which earned him another disapproving look, Harry’s lips curling downwards and his eyebrows squinting together.

“Sorry,” Eggsy muttered and, for a moment, he considered getting up to retrieve the cigarette-butt, but then Harry slid down to sit beside him, which he did surprisingly elegantly considering the fact he was old. At least fifty. Fifty-five? Shit, how old was that guy anyway?

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Harry said softly – so softly Eggsy wasn’t sure he had been meant to hear.

Clearing his throat, Eggsy pushed aside all thought of Harry’s age in order to find out how many years difference there was between them, because it didn’t matter. What had happened last night was circumstance and nothing more. Harry had no interest in him, he’d made that clear earlier. _You think I’ve never slept with a target to aid a mission?_

“Well, you still owe me an explanation,” he said, aiming for a light tone, but failing miserably when he couldn’t stop remembering the feeling of Harry’s racing pulse beneath his lips.

Nodding, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and curled his arms around them. He was still wearing last night’s suit, which meant he hadn’t gone to bed last night, having worked through the night – whatever kind of work spies did after a mission. He probably examined the documents they’d found. God, Eggsy hoped Freely was busted now, because the truth was that he’d feel better knowing Freely was behind bars. He’d feel … cleaner somehow. And the fact that that meant Dean lost another job was only a plus. Or not. Eggsy couldn’t tell anymore.

“What do you want to know?” Harry asked.

Fuck, where to begin?

Eggsy turned his head, staring at Harry, as if he would find answers written on his face, in his eyes, as if his thoughts would echo loud enough inside his head and he would hear. What did he want to know? What about his dad? Where did he die? _How_ did he die? Had Harry been there? And what about Kingsman? The whole tailor shop had to be a front, that much was obvious. Was Roxy a spy, too? She had to be. Fuck, that was cool! Was he even allowed to know all this, to ask these questions? Harry was probably breaking a ton of rules here. Did that put his life in danger? Or would they erase his memory after like some kind of James Bond shit?

“Eggsy, are you alright?”

The truth was that he didn’t feel alright. He felt tired and nauseous and his head hurt and he felt cold, but the latter was his own fault, because it was the end of December and he’d decided it was a good idea to come sit outside wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and a hoodie.

“Eggsy?” Harry repeated, hoping to call his attention back to him. Harry’s hand reached out to touch the side of his face, the tips of his fingers brushing against Eggsy’s hair, smoothing it back. “You’re cold.”

Harry’s touch was warm and soft and soothing, and Eggsy’s eyes fluttered shut without his permission. He leaned into Harry’s hand and inhaled deeply, wanting to surround himself with nothing but the man. The touch of his hand, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his steady breathing, the taste of his– _Stop it!_ Forcing those thoughts away, Eggsy cleared his throat and righted his back, eyes opening and instantly finding Harry Hart’s dark brown gaze. It pulled him right in, right _under_ , because looking at Harry felt like disappearing underneath the surface of the ocean, drowning. Suffocating.

“Your lips are blue,” Harry said, his thumb lightly touching the corner of Eggsy’s lips.

Oh, fuck his life.

Leaning forward, Eggsy slammed their lips together, his hands gripping Harry’s shoulders, fingers digging deep into the skin there. His tongue darted out to flick against Harry’s lips, wishing to open them, to taste him, to be engulfed by him, and when Harry complied, Eggsy moaned against his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. Something warm and soft swirled around his stomach. Licking into Harry’s mouth, Eggsy found he tasted of whiskey and mints, and he smelled of leather and pine.

Desperation crashed into him like devastating waves crashing into a rocky shore, ruthless and violent, and Eggsy shuffled forward, fingers gripping the collar of Harry’s shirt, pulling him as close as possible. He threw a leg across Harry’s lap, cradling his hips, eagerly chasing the taste of Harry’s lips– only for Harry to pull back suddenly, his fingers curling around Eggsy’s wrists.

“Eggsy–”

“Don’t.” Eggsy was breathed hard and fast. “Don’t overthink this.”

“One of us has to,” Harry argued. He pushed Eggsy’s hands away from him. “Eggsy, I’m old enough to be your fa–”

“Shut up,” Eggsy snapped, head shaking. He refused to let this be ruined, refused to let this end now that he got a taste of Harry Hart and longed for more. “We’ll make a kink out of it later.”

“A kink?”

Eggsy didn’t let him think more about it.

Head dipping, he claimed Harry’s lips again, relieved and pleased to find them parting beneath his touch. Harry’s tongue met his, and Eggsy moaned, a shiver running down his spine with excitement and anticipation. Harry’s hands curled into his hair, and Eggsy gripped Harry’s sides tightly, steading them. He canted his hips, their bodies pressing together and Eggsy felt the taut muscles of Harry’s stomach, felt the growing hardness in his trousers – which was when he’d pushed too far. Harry once again broke their kiss.

“No.” Harry was breathing heavily, lips swollen, hair a mess. It was such a fucking lovely view and while Eggsy wanted nothing more than to ravage the guy and feel those ridiculously strong hands on his body, he respected the determined look in his eyes.

“Just promise me–” He had trouble forming coherent thoughts. “Promise you won’t come to regret this. We’ll talk, but you can’t–”

“Eggsy.” The way Harry breathed his name had Eggsy’s stomach twist together. In a good way. In such a fucking ridiculously good way! “Let’s talk first.”

Begrudgingly, Eggsy slide from Harry’s lap, settling back against the wall. He wanted to light up another cigarette, just to have something to do with his hands, but Harry disapproved of the behavior so Eggsy refrained himself and, instead, simply waited a few moments for the racing of his heart to calm again. He didn’t look at Harry, giving him the opportunity to compose himself again, too, although he didn’t think Harry had much trouble with that. He was a proper Englishman, after all. He was always composed.

“So,” he began eventually. “You’re a spy.” He stared ahead of him, at the green grass stretching out before him, dew covering the leaves. Temperatures hadn’t dropped below freezing point during the night, but each time Eggsy exhaled, his breath did turn into a white cloud of smoke.

“Yes, I’m a Kingsman,” Harry said, as if that somehow explained everything. “We’re a secret independent international intelligence agency that protects the people of the world against terrorists and other major threats.”

Eggsy’s head already spun. “My dad was a part of that?”

Harry nodded while his gaze remained down, away from Eggsy. He suddenly didn’t look so confident anymore. Which was weird, because he’d been the one insisting on talking. “He was training to be an agent,” he explained. “You were four or five years old back then. We were working a mission in the Middle East, part of his training, when there was an incident and he lost his life.”

Eggsy shifted where he sat, uncomfortable suddenly. On the verge of annoyed. “An incident?” He echoed. Fuck all, he wouldn’t call the moment his dad died a goddamn _incident_. Anger swept over him, blinding him, and his hands turned into tight fists.

For a long moment, Harry kept quiet, eyes closed, brow creased. “I screwed up,” he said – no, _confessed_. “It was my task to ensure everyone’s safety, but I missed a hand grenade, and your father sacrificed his life to save mine.”

It was as if he couldn’t comprehend the words, couldn’t understand them. He heard them, they registered in his brain, but they were a foreign language. “So what you’re saying is …” Eggsy cleared his throat, hating how fragile he sounded. Fuck, he’d wanted to know how his dad had died, thought it wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t affect anything, but this … _This_ …. “My dad died saving you, because you made a rookie mistake, and–” His voice cracked with each word, “–and now you feel guilty.”

“Of course I feel guilty,” Harry said.

Eggsy jumped up on his feet. “That’s why you’ve been coming over every year?” His anger transformed into fury. Why, he didn’t actually know. He felt offended. Hurt. “Not out of some sense of duty to my dad, but out of guilt.”

Harry clearly hadn’t expected this. Eyebrows high and lips parted, he tried to come up with a response, a way to calm Eggsy, but like hell was Eggsy going to allow that. No, he was pissed off and he had every reason to be, hadn’t he? Right? Right.

“So what, taking me in was pure guilt, too?” He took a step away from Harry when he stood, too, needing distance between them. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he’d been kissing him only ten seconds earlier. “Like you could somehow start over again? You fucked up my dad, got him killed, but maybe you could _not_ fuck me up?”

“No, Eggsy, that’s not–”

“This is some real fucked-up shit,” Eggsy fumed. He regretted not lighting that cigarette now, regretted taking Harry’s sentiments into consideration, regretting ever feeling attracted to him, because fuck him. “I’m not my dad, you wanker.” Was he a replacement? Everyone said he looked like his dad. Fucking hell.

“I know you’re not your dad, Eggsy, please let me explain–”

“Shut up!”

Harry hadn’t just been there when his dad had died. Harry was the _reason_ his dad had died. Eggsy had thought none of it mattered, but it fucking did. How would his life have looked like if Harry Hart had done his fucking job and Lee Unwin hadn’t died that day? No Dean, that was for sure. His mum wouldn’t be forced to suffer Dean’s abuse every day. _He_ wouldn’t be forced to suffer his abuse.

“Fuck you, Harry Hart!”

And then he ran off.

He heard Harry’s voice calling after him, asking him to stay, begging him for a chance to explain, heard his heavy footsteps behind him, but Eggsy kept on running, right out of the front door, down the street, and further on. He didn’t care where he was running to. All that mattered was getting away, because he’d always been good at running. Maybe that was Harry’s fault, too.

Fuck Harry Hart.

-/-

He was drifting.

Sauntering through the streets of London, hands buried deep into the pockets of his jacket, shivering because the wind was cutting through him, Eggsy just milled around, having nowhere to go, only places to get away from. That was starting to get annoying, really, and tiring. For one brief moment, Eggsy began to think there was something wrong with him, something that caused life to be difficult, only to cast that thought aside.

Blaming Harry Hart was easier.

The haughty prick probably thought him an idiot, like he wouldn’t be smart enough to see what he was trying to do. Lee Unwin had died because of a mistake he made, so he had spent the rest of his life battling feelings of guilt and using him to ease that sentiment. Well, like fuck would he be used like that. And if that weren’t true, like Harry had so-very-clearly tried to explain, then why hadn’t he told the story before? _Story_. It wasn’t a fucking story. This was his life.

The sky above was dark, with stars trying to break through thick clouds, and just as Eggsy glanced up, the first snowflakes whirled downwards. Great. This was just fucking great. Zipping up his jacket and quickening his pace, Eggsy made his way down the street and decided to go left. Home wasn’t an option, but staying outside all night wasn’t one either, not now that it was snowing. So Brandon it was. He’d find a place to sleep there.

There was just one problem, however. God or whoever the fuck lived up there – not that he was Catholic, too much having happened in his life to believe in anything other than nothing – had different plans, apparently, and before Eggsy managed to make it down Cork Street, he heard footsteps thundering behind him. Eggsy spun around and found three men charging at him, three far too familiar faces, and six far too familiar fists.

“There you fucking are,” Dean growled as he closed the distance between them.

Eggsy managed to jump out of his reach just in time, only for Rottweiler’s hands to grab hold of him, preventing him from making a run for it. While he hated running, he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t defend himself against three pissed off assholes. Well, he could, just not without ending up at the ER himself. _You promised_ , his mother’s voice whispered inside his head, but it was easy to ignore her, because so much had happened since that day. Would anyone really blame him if he chose to fight? He felt angry and frustrated and broken and used, which were sentiments that filled him with energy, red hard-boiling energy that was desperately looking for a way out.

Dean’s face seemed like a perfect way out.

Yanking his arm free, Eggsy planted his fist into Dean’s face, smirking as he heard the crack of bone, only for Rottweiler to throw him against the ground. With all the air knocked from his lungs, Eggsy needed a moment to recover, except that he wasn’t given a moment, Dean already on top of him, his hands around his throat, squeezing, fury in his gaze.

He couldn’t breathe.

Rottweiler laughed.

“I’m not interested in a fight,” Dean growled as he sat on top of him, his grip on his throat only tightening. Eggsy’s fingers closed around Dean’s wrists, hoping to pull them away from him, but Dean’s grip was unrelenting.

He couldn’t fucking breathe!

It was pointless looking around for help. Rottweiler wouldn’t stop laughing and Poodle, another one of Dean’s baboons – although that was an insult to baboons – was grabbing hold of what looked to be a long piece of rope. What the fuck? _What the fuck?_ Panic settled in his bones and Eggsy began to struggle, his arms aiming to knock Dean’s hands away from his neck, his legs kicking Dean’s sides, but the lack of oxygen made his muscles weak, throwing off his aim, and darkened the edges of his vision.

“We’re getting paid generously for you, you know,” Dean smiled.

Paid?

Eggsy didn’t understand, couldn’t follow Dean’s words, but at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had to get away, had to escape, and all he could think about was Harry. Hell, part of him wanted to scream his name in a childish attempt to be heard. Ridiculous, yes, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Harry’s name slipped from his lips, right before Dean Baker knocked him unconscious with one well-aimed blow.

-/-

The first thing Eggsy became aware of was the sound of dripping water somewhere behind him, steadily, almost in a soothing kind of way. The second thing he became aware of were voices, different ones, hushed. The third was an uncontrollable need to pee, which was when he realized he sat in a very uncomfortable chair with his wrists tied to the armrests.

Eyes blinking, vision coming into focus, Eggsy saw that he was in some sort of old and abandoned factory, which was so incredibly cliché that a snort nearly escaped him, only for the reality of the situation to settle within him like a giant wrecking ball hitting him square in the face.

And great, now that song was stuck in his head.

Dean’s face was the first he recognized, then Rottweiler’s, and eventually Poodle’s, and as the events of his pre-unconscious state returned to him, Eggsy began to tug at his wrists, hoping to free them of their restraints, only to notice they had been tied tightly around the entire length of his arms. His ankles were tied to the front legs of the chair, too. Clearly these assholes weren’t taking any risks.

_We’re getting paid generously for you._

Fucking hell. What was going on?

“Dean?” He shouldn’t smirk when noticing his stepfather’s obviously crooked nose. He’d also clearly tried to wipe away the blood, but some still stuck to his chin. He looked like a mess. Then again, he probably looked like a mess, too. Worse even. Shit, why did they tie him to a fucking chair? And who paid them for what?

His heart beat furiously against his ribcage, but like hell was he going to let Dean notice.

“Hello, sunshine,” Dean smiled, the fucking ass-face.

“What’s going on?” Tugging at his restraints again, Eggsy tried not to come up with any worst-case scenarios. Dean wasn’t smart enough to be this inventive. They weren’t gonna torture him. Why the hell would they? For fun? They weren’t that evil. Besides, Dean had a record. He couldn’t risk going to jail. What would they do after? Eggsy wasn’t going to keep quiet about this.

Whatever _this_ was.

“You got yourself in a mess, kid,” Dean said.

“Did I?” He honestly hadn’t a clue as to what Dean was talking about.

Then another voice asked: “What is Kingsman?”

He hadn’t noticed the fourth man. Clearly, he hadn’t mean to, because just like a scene ripped from the worst James Bond movie, Francis Freely stepped out of the shadows with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a mean look on his face.

“I’d like to know more about these Kingsmen.” Freely sauntered closer to where Eggsy sat, like he hadn’t a care in the world, like he had all the time in the world, too. Eggsy wanted to recoil, wanted to retreat – fuck, he wanted to run, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t believed it possible, but his heartrate spiked and he was pretty sure Dean could hear the racing of his heart. The son of a bitch was smirking like, well, like a son of a bitch.

“About the what?” Eggsy swallowed heavily and sucked in a deep breath. He needed to keep calm.

“Mr. Bloom isn’t who he said he was.” Freely halted and inspected his nails for a moment. Honestly, what a fucking atrocious villain. “I did some research. Who the fuck could have guessed Mr. Baker here would be such a help.” He lowered his hand, took another step forward, and leaned down. His hands curled around Eggsy’s wrists, squeezing to the point his nails threatened to break skin. His face was merely inches away and Eggsy could feel his warm breath on his face. It smelled of cigarettes. Damn, he knew now why Harry had pulled that face before.

 _Harry_.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, bruv,” Eggsy said with a shrug.

Freely glanced at Dean over his shoulder. “Harry Hart is his name, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, that smirk of his only growing, and _fuck_ , Eggsy wanted to punch it off of his face. “Has been comin’ over ever since his pops got killed in the army.”

“I’ve got ears everywhere.” Freely’s attention was solely back on Eggsy. “The word _Kingsman_ was whispered to me. After the party the other day, I noticed more and more of my men, of my friends, disappearing, until I learned they didn’t actually vanish. No, they all got arrested.” Freely’s eyes narrowed and darkened. “My money is gone, too.” He grabbed hold of Eggsy’s chin suddenly, gripping it tightly, drawing a pained moan from Eggsy’s lips. “And since Mr. Bloom isn’t actually Mr. Bloom, and the word _Kingsman_ was whispered into my ear, and I saw you leave with him, there is only one logical conclusion.”

“I don’t know about any fucking _Kingsman_ ,” Eggsy forced out through gritted teeth.

Freely shoved his head back. “But you know Harry Hart.”

“Oh, he does,” Dean butted in. He lit up a cigarette. “He’s been staying with him the past few weeks.”

“Are they part of MI-6?” Freely questioned.

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Know.” Eggsy would have spit in his direction, but he wasn’t ready yet to get beaten to a pulp. Or worse. Then again, if it were to happen, it might as well happen now. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t fucking tell you, you wanker.” He did it; he spat in Freely’s direction, only missing the tip of shoe within an inch.

Freely stayed remarkably calm. “You’ve been looking at the situation from the wrong direction.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Freely was tall and lean, with surprisingly broad shoulders and muscled arms. He had dark curls and heavy eyebrows. Honestly, in another life Eggsy would have found him attractive. Now he liked to compare him to a baboon. He enjoyed comparing twats to baboons. “This is an opportunity, Eggsy,” Freely continued. “A chance to join us, to prove that you can be part of our–”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Eggsy said, which earned him an incredulous look on Freely’s part. “First of all, you don’t have any money, you said it yourself only a moment ago, so you can’t pay me even if you wanted to.” A vein began to throb near Freely’s right temple. “Second of all, you stand here with Dean fucking Baker at your side. It proves how low you’ve sunken. And third of all, just fuck you.”

He’d earned the punch to his face, and, honestly, it surprised him Freely himself had been the one to throw it. Head thrown back and blood streaming from his nose, down his lips and chin, Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh. It was either that or retreat into a state of full-out panic.

“You little prick,” Freely hissed.

“That’s what I’ve been saying for years already,” Dean chuckled.

“I want to know about the man who ruined everything.” Freely was rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. Clearly, he was not efficient at punching people. It didn’t come as a surprise that he was one of those uptight pricks who usually let other people do the dirty work for him. Which was why Dean and his merry band of idiots were here.

“I want to know about the _Kingsmen_ ,” Freely said, lips barely moving as he did. He looked like a statue. Only one that was seconds away from exploding. “Tell me about Harry Hart.”

Eggsy opened his mouth to reply, but someone beat him to it.

“If you want to know so badly, then why don’t you ask me personally?”

Harry fucking Hart stood by the door, one hand oh-so-very casually slipped into the pocket of his trousers, his other resting on the handle of an umbrella. He wore those dark-rimmed glasses again and had a don’t-fucking-mess-with-me look plastered on his face.

Eggsy had never been happier to see him.

That and slightly turned on.

There was something seriously wrong with him.

Freely wasn’t given the chance to shout an order, wasn’t given the chance to initiate an attack, and Eggsy watched with incredulity, awe, and excitement as Harry darted forward and hit Freely right in the face with the umbrella. Freely stumbled back, hands covering his bleeding nose – Karma, bitch – and curses falling from his tongue.

Unfortunately, Dean and his goons were already jumping into action, reaching for their guns hidden underneath their jackets. Eggsy wanted to shout a warning, tell Harry to watch out, but then the sounds of bullets being fired was already echoing through the room. Eggsy had his eyes squeezed shut, didn’t want to see Harry being riddled with bullets, only for Harry’s voice to call back his attention.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Harry said.

Weird.

With his umbrella opened, Harry charged forward and knocked out Poodle with one well-aimed blow to the back of his head. Dean was ready to pounce, Rottweiler right behind him, which was when Eggsy noticed another figure in the room. A small figure, short, but lean and ridiculously fast.

“I’ll keep him alive, Merlin, don’t worry.” Roxy was on top of Rottweiler in the blink of an eye.

That was when Eggsy decided he was done being an observer. He was done sitting around doing nothing and watching people he cared for risking their lives for him. Using all the strength he possessed in his body, Eggsy threw himself back and groaned as the wooden chair broke and splintered beneath his back, bruising his skin, but he didn’t care.

As quickly as he could, he freed himself of the rope around his arms and legs, and jumped back up on his feet.

Freely was running towards the exit.

“Hey, dickhead!” Picking up a piece of broken wood, Eggsy threw it and hit Freely right at the back of his head. As the man fell, his head hit the concrete floor hard enough to knock him unconscious. Eggsy let out a victorious whoop, only for a pair of strong arms to wrap around his shoulders and the cold blade of a knife to press against his throat.

“Move and you die, you son of a bitch,” Dean cursed in his ear.

Eggsy cursed under his breath. “That’s your wife you’re insulting.”

“Mr. Baker.” Harry took a step forward, both hands raised as to show he wasn’t armed, his umbrella laying discarded to the side. Roxy held a gun in her hand, her finger firmly on the trigger, but she was pointing it at the floor and Eggsy didn’t miss the fact that Harry was putting himself directly in between them. “Put the gun away, Roxy,” he said without looking at her. “Mr. Baker, please lower the knife. No one else needs to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to jail for that uptight prick,” Dean snapped, head nodding to the unconscious form of Francis Freely. “I don’t even like him.”

Harry smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”

Like fuck!

Eggsy wasn’t going to let Dean get away with this. Fury settled in his bones and the edges of his vision darkened. Whatever he was thinking, it must have been evident to Harry because he let out a brief “Eggsy, no!” before Eggsy turned around in Dean’s arms, uncaring of the cut it earned him to the side of his neck, and kneed Dean Baker in the balls.

Dean gasped for air, the knife dropping to the floor with a sharp sound, followed by Dean himself dropping to the floor as he clutched his private area, moaning and groaning and curling in on himself.

“Jackass,” Eggsy spat at him.

Harry was at his side in no time, his hands curling around Eggsy’s arms, forcing him to look at him. “Are you alright?” His fingers prodded the skin around the cut, causing Eggsy to wince, because it stung like hell, but it was also ridiculously nice to feel Harry’s hands on his body again. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“I dragged myself into it, thank you very much,” Eggsy said, aiming for lightness. Harry didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile, but he did hear Roxy snort somewhere near the doorway. He made a mental note to thank her later for coming to his aid. “I’m fine, Harry. I’ve been beaten up worse than this.”

“That’s not reassuring at all.” The tips of Harry’s fingers were still lingering against Eggsy’s skin, brushing downwards, until his thumb caressed the nape of Eggsy’s neck. Eggsy didn’t think Harry was even aware of what he was doing.

“How did you know where to find me? How did you even know I was in trouble?”

Roxy snorted again.

Harry’s hands fell away, and Eggsy already missed the warmth of his touch. “I put a tracker on you,” he confessed while a blush crept up his neck, heading toward his cheeks. It was goddamn adorable. The blush. Not the tracking. That was discerning. “You were my responsibility and I wanted to take care of you, but I took it too far. I shouldn’t have put a tracker on you, Eggsy, I apologize.”

He couldn’t be angry. “You saved my life,” he said. Sighing, tension slipping from his shoulders he hadn’t known to have been there, Eggsy leaned forward, his hands on his knees and his head down. “Fuck, I have to believe Dean wouldn’t actually have killed me.”

“Forget about the asshole,” Roxy noted as she passed by. Only now did Eggsy realize that she was in the process of tying up everyone, making sure no one could escape. He smiled gratefully at her and even managed a short burst of laughter when she none too gently forced Dean onto his stomach so she could put handcuffs around his wrists.

“Eggsy.” Harry’s hands curled gently around Eggsy’s and it felt as if his touch alone was enough to drive away any ache he experienced. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Can’t you just kiss me already?” Eggsy groaned.

“Of course.” Harry’s lips brushed against Eggsy’s and a hand curled into Eggsy’s hair.

Eggsy’s eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped him without his permission, but he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care, because Dean was heading to jail for a fucking long time and Harry Hart was kissing him. Harry fucking Hart was _kissing_ him, and Eggsy eagerly kissed him back. His hands grabbed hold of the collars of Harry’s jacket, pulling him as close as physically possible, while he parted his lips to let Harry in, sucking on the tip of his tongue and grinning like a fool when he heard Harry moan in response.

“Uhm, guys?” Roxy crossed her arms before her chest. “Merlin kindly asks you to stop.”

Harry broke the kiss – much to Eggsy’s disapproval – and glanced at the young agent with a smirk on his face. “Kindly tell Merlin to shut up,” he said, reaching for his glasses and throwing them at Roxy – Roxy who caught them effortlessly.

Harry’s thumb wiped away some of the dried blood on Eggsy’s skin.

Eggsy’s hand curled around Harry’s wrist. “Now,” he asked innocently. “Where were we?”


End file.
